


Expressions of Sentiment

by Johnlockthedoors



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockthedoors/pseuds/Johnlockthedoors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are bored. Greg and Mycroft have a secret. Well, not for long!!</p><p>Words are shared and revelations are had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expressions of Sentiment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Awwjeezitsamy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awwjeezitsamy/gifts).



> Just a little bit of Mystrade Head Canon that came to me. I give all the credit to the link below that I saw on Pinterest! It was this post that brought this baby to life. I will try to link you when I finish. :3
> 
> The photo that spurred this fic can be found at the following link.
> 
> http://www.pinterest.com/pin/336292297146524398/
> 
> Dedicated to @AwwJeezitsamy for asking me to write this. I hope you like it, sweetie. Mystrade is as big as Johnlock now. Let's make this a thing!!!
> 
> Also, can you spot the other fandom references?! ;)

**John's POV**  
  
  Sherlock Holmes is bored and everybody on Baker Street knows it. They know the sound of random gunfire coming from the flat at 221b. They know the sound of whining and shouting and the roar of minor explosions. It's become almost a routine for the neighbors and it gives them something to chat about over afternoon tea and family dinners. What they don't know is what happens when all of those experiments fail and John has hidden his nicotine patches and cigarette supply. You would think one bloke's incessant pouting over extreme boredom wouldn't come close to affecting the British Government but then, you would be wrong. Today was definitely not their day and it was only about to get worse.

  "Joooohhhnnnn." Sherlock is writhing on the couch like an anxious child. "John...Come on, John!" John is ignoring said child while reading the paper and sipping his tea. "Refill?" He takes Sherlock's cup without waiting for a reply and heads to wards the kitchen. "John, I'm not thirsty." John laughs quietly to himself and smirks. "No. You're pouting, like a child" he mutters to himself. "But John!" Sherlock continues his whining "I  _need_ them, John. Just one. Please?" John returns from the kitchen and places their mugs on the coffee table. "Come here, you."

  He gently nudges for Sherlock to move so he can sit on the couch. Sherlock groans but obliges him and once John is comfortable he flops onto his lap like a lazy puppy. John giggles and begins running his hands through Sherlock's curls. He notices the slight smile beginning to play on the corner of his boyfriends lips and he leans down to kiss him on the brow. He smiles warmly and continues to run one hand through the detectives hair and uses the other to hold his tea. He feels Sherlock's breath hitch. Knowing that means he's thought of something and, if he claims to know Sherlock at all, realizes it can't be anything good. This is confirmed the instant he glances down and Sherlock has a grin on his face, the likes of which, John has never seen.

  "Oh god. What is it?" John glares at him knowingly, suspiciously. Sherlock grins and bounces up almost spilling John's tea in the process. "Ah! Careful, you'll burn us both!"

  Sherlock doesn't even flinch but starts for his bedroom before John could continue to question him. John is three steps behind him, having abandoned his tea, in the living room, but stops short when he gets to Sherlock's bedroom door.

  "Er...W-what are you doing?" He asks, almost shyly, as he watches the detective strip himself of his sleep wear leaving him in nothing but his pants. "He's in a meeting all day, John!" John inclines his head in fake understanding and then realizes he has no idea what Sherlock's talking about. "Umm...Who is? What meeting? Sherlock, what are you on about?" Sherlock stops suddenly, still only in his pants but pulling on his white dress shirt. "My brother, John! Do keep up." John just blinks at him and his face must show is confusion because Sherlock begins to speak again. "Mycroft, he's in a meeting all day. He has Anthea with him which means the house will be empty from noon until at least 5 or 6. That gives us plenty of time to be in, get what we need and get out before my brother is made aware of our break in!"

  John's eyebrows shoot up and he looks at Sherlock as if he just asked him to help hide a body. He continues to watch as Sherlock dresses and finds his gaze dropping as the younger man reaches down to pull on his trousers. John smirks and is about to open his mouth to make another suggestion, for how to better pass the time, when Sherlock finishes and turns to grin at him. John notices, too late, that he's been caught ogling and part of him doesn't even care.

  "Really, John?" He says with a slight chuckle in his voice. "Well you can't blame me." He says turning to make his way back to the living room. "I mean it's not my fault my boyfriend has the best arse in all of London." He grins and turns to wink at Sherlock who just smiles and shakes his head. "Seriously, you should see it" he laughs. "I don't know, John. I think I've got you beat." John giggles "Oh yeah? How's that?" "I think my boyfriends arse could trump yours any day." He winks at John as he pulls on his coat and puts his hands into his gloves. "Okay, you may have a point there." John blushes and grins. "Oh I do! And it's not just pretty either. You should feel what it does to my..." "Sherlock!!" John cuts him off and they both head down the stairs laughing and grinning.

  Once outside Sherlock hails a cab and they climb inside. He gives the address to the cabby and relax in their seats. They ride in comfortable silence for a bit before John realizes that he was still not given an explanation as to why they were going to Mycroft's flat in begin with. He turns to Sherlock, who had been looking out the window and he gently touches his hand to get his attention.

  "Sherlock?" The younger man turns his head and smiles at John. "Hmm?" John smiles back and takes Sherlock's hand in his. "Why exactly are we going to your brothers house if he's away?" Sherlock gives John the _w_ _e both know what's going on here_ face. "Nope. No! You gave me absolutely no explanation other than your brother was in a meeting. So don't give me the face, Sherlock." Sherlock sighs and begins to explain. "Our mother has been worried about Mycroft lately. He hasn't been returning her calls and he missed the last few weekend visits he usually takes to make sure his 'favorite son' status is still in order. I'm....checking up on him, if you will." John looks at him with skepticism and disbelief. "Nope. I'm not buying it. You've got other plans, that maybe your motive but their is a reason you are only coming round when he's not home." Sherlock grins at him, proudly. "John Watson, you either know me too well or you're finally beginning to observe." John just sits back and chuckles to himself. "You want to deduce it on your own. You feel like if you ask him he will either dismiss you or attempt to lie or hide the truth. So you're going round when he isn't home means you are free to search for the answers on your own in the hopes to get the truth about some secret you think he's hiding?"

  Sherlock is smiling from ear to ear as he claps his hands together and laughs rather loudly. John knows then that he's got it right and he just sits back and shakes his head while his boyfriend gloats in the passenger seat. They ride the rest of the way in silence and when they make the turn into Mycroft's house he pays the driver and hops out the cab. John follows behind him as he makes his way to the coded lock on Mycroft's front door.

**  
Greg's POV**

  Greg sits up and stretches in the crisp cream colored sheets. Waking up alone is never fun but since he is on vacation and he got to sleep in today, for the first time in ages, he doesn't complain. He gets up and wanders to the bathroom, dragging his hands over his face he notices he's in bad need of a shave.  _After I shower_ he thinks to himself. He turns the taps on in the shower and goes back to the bathroom sink to brush his teeth. Once finished, he hops in the shower and grabs the body wash sitting on the shelf. It's not his but he smirks while applying it to the wash cloth and he takes a deep breath to inhale the scent. It's slightly fruity but in a masculine way, it's got musky undertones and a hint of something spicy. It smells like  _him._

He finishes in the shower and steps out grabbing the over sized towel sitting in the warmer to his left. He takes another, smaller, towel and runs it through his silver hair. Hanging that one around his neck and wrapping the larger one around his waist he walks out of the bathroom and back into the adjoining bedroom. He realizes he left his razor, in his bag, in the sitting room and he heads out of the bedroom and down the hall to grab it. That's when he hears the noise in the sitting room and curses himself for not bringing his gun.

   _Damnit! Myc's at his meeting for the next three or four hours. Anthea's with him so who the hell could this be?_ He suddenly wishes he had gotten dressed before leaving the safety of the bedroom. He hears muffled voices and the footsteps begin to get closer. He silently prays the intruder is unarmed and willing to negotiate. Although, to be fair, he isn't holding his breath on that last part. He can see the headlines of the Daily Mail now. ' _ **Detective Inspector, of Scotland Yard, found, nude & unconscious in government officials home.' **_He shakes his head and takes a deep breath then steps out of the shadow of the hall way.

 

**John's POV**

  They make their way into the flat and John is still teasing Sherlock about their break in to his brother's home. "You know, as an army official I should technically report you, for this."

  He grins at Sherlock and suddenly he finds himself pushed up against the wall with the taller man very close to him. Sherlock has a playful look in his eyes and he bites his lip before speaking. He leans over John in an imposing way, their bodies almost flush, one hand on the wall behind John and the other he places on John's hip. He can feel his boyfriend's breath hitch and he takes notice of the sudden blush in his cheeks.

  "Oh, is that so?" John swallows hard and attempts to hold his ground. "Yes, it's part of my oath, you know, the one I took when I joined the army." Sherlock's eyes turn slightly sinister and he leans even closer, so his breath is sweeping across John's face. "But you're not a soldier anymore, Doctor Watson."

  John finds that he can't move. He also finds that he doesn't much care. He loves this side of Sherlock, the dominant, slightly dangerous and highly intoxicating side that he only allows John to see. He can feel himself responding and he smiles slightly and pushes against Sherlock's chest. It's a feeble attempt to move and he knows it will be of no use but he does it anyway, if only for the response he knows he'll get in return.

  Sherlock grabs his hands, easily, and pins them behind his back. He leans in again, holding John's wrists with one hand and bending his arm on the wall behind him to lean in even closer. He smirks and leans in so he can whisper to John, making the smaller man squirm and whine.

  "Oh, oh, oh! I don't think so, Captain." That right there, the fact that Sherlock was calling him by his rank  was enough to almost make John's knees buckle. "Now, what was that you were saying? Something about....Reporting me for bad behavior?" Sherlock chuckles, his lips next to John's ear. His breath blowing straight across John's neck and all John can do is melt under his assault. "Is that it, then?" John barely realizes he was asking him a question. "Mmm?" He responds. "Is that what you're going to do? Are you going to report me, for this, Captain?" Just then he lunges at John with a growl and begins kissing and biting down the side of his neck.

  John whimpers, he actually whimpers. Sherlock waits about three seconds and when he doesn't get an answer, instead he hears a moan and can feel John's breath pick up he let's him go. John wants to pull him back, to finish what they started. When Sherlock catches his eye and winks at him he begins to regain his composure and shake off his arousal. He shakes his head and grins at the taller detective before speaking.

  "You're a bloody tease, you know that." John laughs and Sherlock grins a wide, proud, grin and struts into the living room. "Now, John, what can we find in here? Mother said he hasn't been returning calls and he's missed at least 3 dinners." John, still smiling, tries his best to keep up with his boyfriends changing moods. "Well, has he had anything big going on? I mean, I know he doesn't always tell you but I imagine there isn't a lot you can't figure out on your own anyway." Sherlock, once again, appears proud of him and it makes his heart skip a beat. "Good, John. You're really getting good at this aren't you?"

  John smiles and walks into the living room and begins to search. He doesn't feel right going through anything too official looking so he sticks to the mail, bills mostly, that sit on the table to the left of Mycroft's rather expensive looking sofa. Sherlock is pulling on his gloves as if he's at a crime scene and John suddenly feels ridiculous.

  "Wait...Sherlock, so, you don't want your brother to know you were here? Why didn't you tell me?" Sherlock looks puzzled and then realizes John is not wearing any gloves. He sighs heavily and removes his as well. "Well, we can't be very secretive if you're finger prints are all over everything now can we?" John snorts before he replies. "It's Mycroft, like he's not going to know who was here already. He can probably deduce it by the way the bloody carpet is bent on a...45% angle which only happens under the pressure of certain shoes like the ones you wear with your expensive suits, or something as equally ridiculous as that." Sherlock laughs at that and then winks at John. "My brother is hiding something and I am going to find out what it is and then I am going to hold it over his head like a guillotine until I need something and then he can't tell me no."

  John just shakes his head and that's when he hears the muffled noise coming from the other side of the room. Sherlock hears it as well and stops immediately and makes eye contact with John. He gestures for John to come to him and John obliges. He looks slightly panicked as Sherlock whispers, what he already realizes, into his ear.

  "This is not my brother." He says quietly so as only John can hear him. "His jacket is gone and so is his umbrella. Their is no sign of him having been here within the last few hours and his meeting is not over until this evening." John nods slowly as he understands what Sherlock is saying. "So, we may have just caught someone else breaking into your bother's home during our own break in?" Sherlock nods and looks towards John's hip. "Did you bring your gun?" John gives him a _don't be ridiculous_ look and replies. "Course I bloody didn't." Sherlock glares at him and says "Is it in your coat?" John exhales deeply. "Yes." He cuts out. Sherlock smirks and gestures for them to head towards the noise. That's when it happens.

  They round the corner where they hear the noise. John with his gun in his hand, ready to fire and Sherlock in front with his eyes ready to take in everything he can about the intruder before things get to crazy to concentrate. He is already cataloging the time and date and attempting to come up with a reason for his being there. A reason that does, in no way, involve the truth, lest his brother get the absurd idea that he, himself, was worried.

  "That's close enough!" The two hear a familiar voice ring out and both men stop dead just as soon as they come face to face with their so-called intruder. "I've phoned the police already, they're on their....way." John and Sherlock share a look of utter shock and surprise and then turn their focus back to the other man. "Greg?!" The shout in unison. "What the hell are you doing here?" John inquires in disbelief.

  Greg shifts and stutters and realizes, too late, that he is still basically naked, save for the towel around his waist. He tightens his hold on the towel and swallows hard, looking very nervous and very guilty. Sherlock glares at him and John seems to come to the realization about a half second before Sherlock does. Both men's eyes widen in shock and it's John who speaks up first.

  "You?" He asks. "....Yeah." Greg responds. "And Mycroft...." John implies. "Well...yeah." Greg responds in a manner that suggests no one was supposed to know. "So, not an intruder then?" John inquires. Greg laughs at that. "No, not quite but I can't quite say the same for you now can I?" John chuckles and shakes his head. "Wait, did you really call the police?" Greg appears puzzled for a moment and then realized. "Oh, haha no. I just...was hoping if you were an actual intruder that it might scare you away or bide me some time or something." the two men laughed and sighed in mutual understanding. "Good thing, for you we weren't armed intruders." Greg raised an eyebrow and glared at John's browning. "Oh, ahhh....Yeah." They share a look and Greg speaks up. "Just put it away, John. I didn't see it okay?" John does as the DI requested and replied. "Thanks, Greg. I owe you one."

  They turn to Sherlock who appears to still be in shock. John tried to shake him and Greg reached out to touch him. Sherlock recoiled and had a sudden look of disgust on his face. He turned around and walked briskly away. The two boys taking a deep breath and following him.

  "Sherlock, what's wrong? Come on, you're never speechless. What's up?" John attempts to console him. "Him! He's what's wrong!! Him and my brother and what they're doing....It's just....Wrong!" John gives him a look of complete shock and disbelief. "Umm...What's so wrong about him shagging your brother? You're shagging me, what's the difference?" Sherlock look thoroughly and completely appalled. "Tell me John, would you like to walk in to find your sister's lover naked in her house knowing she probably just shagged her brains out hours before?" John shakes his head and laughed at Sherlock. "You said yourself that your brother is in a meeting and has been for hours now. Greg's hair is still wet which means he probably just finished showering. You're slipping Sherlock, surely you could have seen even that much." John is staring at him now with both humor and adoration. "Stop it!" Sherlock responds. "Stop what?" John asks. "You with your I-got-one-up-on-Sherlock Holmes look, it's annoying." John giggles and turns to Greg who is now leaning against the wall nonchalantly, waiting for someone to address him. "Greg, you should umm....probably go put some clothes on so we can sit and have a normal conversation."

  Greg sighs and turns back into the hall way walking towards the bedroom. Once they hear the door close Sherlock relaxes and sits on the couch. John makes his way over to him and places his hand on Sherlock's back rubbing circles and trying to calm him down. He opens his mouth to speak but Sherlock beats him to it.

  "The missed calls" he says. "Sorry?" John asks. "From my mother, John." Sherlock replies in an impatient manner. John nods and Sherlock continues. "The calls and the missed visits. This explains it all. God, what am I going to do now?" John, not for the first time today, looks at Sherlock with a confused and yet all knowing look on his face. "Sorry, what are you going to do about what? This isn't your business and don't pretend like you came here for your mother because we both know that's not quite true. You came here because you were bored and you knew Mycroft was attempting to hide something from you. Very effectively, I might add, given that Lestrade seems pretty comfortable here. I'd say this isn't new and since the only reason we are even here, is because you got bored, I'd say it might well have remained secret for a while yet without you ever finding out." Sherlock looked as if John had slapped him. "Oh don't look at me like that, we both know I'm right, you just won't admit it." Sherlock starts to pout and then falls onto the couch in a full on sulk. "Oh what am I going to do with you, Holmes?" John says lovingly.

  John finds himself, for the second time that day, with the consulting detectives head on his lap, running his fingers through his gorgeous black curls. He smiles fondly down at the younger man who snuggles into his side and finally begins to relax. John takes his hand and entwines there fingers together. Sherlock holds their hands over his chest, above his heart and then says something John does not expect. John grins and beams, face blushing a deep red as he opens his mouth to respond.

 

**Greg's POV**

 

Greg realizes his razor is still in his bag, along with his clothes and that in order to get dressed he must leave the room and face the consulting detective and his doctor. He looks around for something he can throw on but since Mycroft is so meticulous about keeping a clean house, he has already discarded of Greg's laundry from the night before and so the only thing left for him to throw on is Mycroft's dressing gown. He grabs it and ties it tight around him. He dries off his hair a bit more and heads to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. It helps to calm him down and he takes three deep breaths trying to get up the courage to face the younger Holmes again.

  "Now then, that's better!" He realizes he must have interrupted a moment between the two when he walks back in to the sitting room and both eyes dart up towards him. "Er...Sorry, should I come back?" He asks, unsure of where he stands. Really he has more right to be there than they do but far be it for him to interrupt a private moment between lovers. "Haha no, it's okay. We were just talking. I've calmed the dragon, he might blow a little smoke but I think his fire is on reserve for now." Greg attempted a nervous laugh and walked over to sit on the lounge across from the boys. "Look, Sherlock, the only reason your brother and I are keeping this secret is to protect him and me, from people like Moriarty. You know what they are capable of once they know how to get to you. They go after your heart and neither one of us could handle it if we lost the other one. We'd go insane." Greg look a bit shy and bashful.

  John was smiling at him as he looked down towards Sherlock. A new look of realization donned the beautiful man's face now. Something much softer and more understanding. John looked as if he knew at that moment, that no matter what Sherlock might say, he really did care for and about his brother. John grinned ear to ear with pride at the younger Holmes and then glanced over at Greg who noticed it too. Sherlock, glared at the two of them and turned back into John before speaking again.

  "Fine." he spoke softly. "Sorry, Sherlock, what was that?" Greg teased, making sure he heard him loudly and properly. "I said it's fine. I don't want details and don't expect us to become buddies or friends because you and my brother are shagg..." "Sherlock!" John intercepts. Sherlock groans and sits up facing the other two before speaking again. "Ugh, fine. what term would you have me use, John, hmm?" John glares at him. "What do you say when people ask you about us?" It's a trap and Greg just stares at John who knows Sherlock realizes it and won't dare challenge him on it, if he knows what's good for him. "I...Well, that's different, John." John glances over at Greg, who looks utterly insulted and then back to Sherlock. "Is it? Tell me, when did we become more than just 'shagging' then?" Sherlock looks appalled that John would even suggest it, he opens his mouth to speak but John cautions him with a look. "John, you know how I feel about you and I've always known how you feel about me. It's different between us. We're n a relationship. They're just..."

  "What?!" Greg seems to have had enough. "What just shagging? Is that it? You think I would do that to him? You think I am that cold and callous that I would just use your brother for sex, feelings be damned? That's rotten, Sherlock. Even from you!" Greg gets up and heads towards the kitchen. If he didn't put some distance between him and Sherlock somebody is leaving bloody and broken today. He tries to breath to calm himself down, it works, to a point, until he hears footsteps behind him. He turns ready to have it out when he realizes it's not Sherlock.

  "Look, I'm really sorry, Greg. I..." John sighs heavily and raises his hands in a defeated motion. "I don't know how to make him see. I'm trying but you know him, he doesn't understand emotion and love and all that." Greg nods, "sentiment." John snorts and leans against the counter while Greg makes tea. "Yeah...Sentiment." He shakes his head. "Cuppa?" Greg offers. "Yeah, that's be great actually....Umm..." He glances out towards Sherlock and Greg seems to understand. "Okay, but I'm still mad at him." John laughs, "Welcome to my world." Greg laughs and nods, grabbing three cups and placing a tea bag in each one. "I've got it on the other end. It's not much easier, let me tell you. When he gets in his moods he's just as stormy." They giggle at each other, and at themselves and John speaks first. "God, but I wouldn't change him for the world, Greg. I know he's hateful sometimes, completely mad and a complete arse to everyone, but me...but I love everything about that man. I'm hopeless, I don't know about you." He turns to Greg who now has a proud grin on and pats him on the shoulder. "Oh don't I know it. Mycroft's mood swings have me reaching for my gun more often than the scum that litter this city and keep me in work!" They both laugh and by then Sherlock has made his way from sulking on the sofa to sulking in a chair in the kitchen while the other two laugh and talk.

  Greg pours the tea and adds sugar to Sherlock's and hands him the cup. "Here, now stop being such a cranky arse, will you?" Sherlock huffs, like a child, and mutters something akin to 'thank you' and it makes Greg and John smile. John tries one more time to help Sherlock understand the relationship between the DI and his brother.

  "Sherlock?" he glances up, now open and much more calm than previously. "You know how you felt when Moriarty kidnapped me and you found me in the pool. How you thought you were going to lose me. That we were going to lose each other?" Sherlock looks surprised that he was bringing this up but he nodded slowly and looked back down at his cup. "You told me that it was at that moment, even though we didn't get together until much later, that you realized how much you truly cared about me. Right?" Sherlock nodded again, remaining quiet. "What if I told you that other people have those moments, not necessarily as intense or life threatening, where they realize how much they truly care for someone else, as well?" Sherlock's eyes shot up to meet his and then to Greg and he looked away immediately. His mouth opened and closed three times in an attempt to speak but he couldn't find the words. "I...I didn't...I'm...John?" He looked almost panicked. Greg walked over and sat next to him, hoping to help the young man understand a bit more. "Sherlock, I'm not just shagging your brother. I'm not using him to get off, I'm not just going to drop him if I find someone prettier. That's not how this works. I..." He looked up and Sherlock was staring intently at him, waiting for the DI to finish. "Oh, bloody hell. I love him, okay!! I fucking love him. With everything I have and everything I am. I am hooked, 100% and there's absolutely nothing in this world I wouldn't do for him. I would never hurt him like that and it hurts me that you could believe, for once second, that I was like that."

  Sherlock was very quiet, eerily so. It both bothered and calmed Greg but he pressed on with his resolve. Hoping to help Sherlock realize that this wasn't just a game. Coming to terms with the fact that he was, indeed, in love with Mycroft Holmes and that this was, quite possibly, the first time he, himself, has ever actually realized it. He hadn't been lying though. He wasn't using, Mycroft. he knew he cared a great deal for the older Holmes brother and he knew what dating such an important man would mean. They couldn't be seen together much, outside of their homes. Not yet anyway, not until Moriarty was caught and behind bars. He knew that he would, eventually, have to deal with the oncoming storm that was Sherlock Holmes. He knew, eventually, everything would come out. Everything would be laid bare and exposed and he knew, if he ever had to choose, who would win, he just didn't realize that his feelings ran quite so deep. Perhaps running into Sherlock and John, here today, wasn't such a bad thing after all.

  "Sherlock?" John started cautiously. "I know," he replied gently. "Really?" John asks. "Yes. I know.....Lestrade?" Sherlock stood and turned to leave then turned back to face the DI. "If you ever tell my brother I said any of this, I will plot, carry out and personally investigate your personal murder myself." Greg chuckles and nods for him to keep going. "Treat him well....Take care of him, make sure you don't hurt him and keep him out of my business....And tell him...It's about damn time, too!" With that he turned on his heel and headed out the door, John following after grinning, he turned to quickly wink and the DI and Greg just stood their watching them leave.

  Greg finishes his tea and reaches for Sherlock's cup. He pauses and decides to leave it there. He may have promised to keep Mycroft out of Sherlock's business but this is Mycroft's home and this, is their business. Let him deduce what he will when he comes in and finds three empty cups of tea on the table instead of only one. He'll have fun with that conversation, hell, at least now he won't have to hide around Sherlock and John anymore. He turns and heads back to the living room to grab his bag so he can shave and dress for the day. He laughs to himself and decides to throw on some old jeans a tee shirt. He's got a cake to bake and an announcement to make to a certain British government official.

 

**John's POV**

 

  Once outside the elder Holmes house, the two make it to the street and hail a cab. Quietly they enter the cab and sit, closer than usual, in comfortable silence. They give the cabby their address and decide to get takeaway. They reroute the cabby to their favorite restaurant, pay and get out. making their way inside they are greeted and sat at their usual table by the window. John speaks first.

  "Angelo's." John states. "Hmm?" Sherlock looks up from the menu, "Sorry?" John chuckles, "Angelo's, where it all started." Sherlock smiles and a slight blush makes it's way across his cheeks. "Yes, Angelo's."

  The candle is burning, tall and bright in the center of the table. The other guests are quiet and their mood is surprisingly light and happy now. Something has shifted in the last few days between them, like a sudden understanding or deeper appreciation between the two. John thought he felt it but it wasn't until Sherlock spoke those words to him, just seconds before Greg came back out that he felt them to truly be real. He wanted to bring it up, but how?

  "Sherlock?" John's voice was a bit shaky, nervous and unsure. "Yes, John?" Sherlock smiled at him confidently, his brilliant blue/green eyes shining brightly in the glow of the candle light. "I...uhm...Well, I." Sherlock's grin grew and he seemed to almost burst happiness. "John?" He teased. John laughed nervously, feeling about 14 years old again, like he was asking out his first date or something. "I want you to say it again!" He burst out. Sherlock just laughed and reached over to grab his hand, his beautiful face turning serious. "John, I used to think caring was a dangerous disadvantage. I was wrong, when it comes to you because how can sentiment possibly be a chemical defect found on the losing side? When I look at you and everything I feel, tells me this is nothing but right?"

  John is stunned into silence, his eyes full with unshed tears and his heart bursting with affection for this man who is sat across from him. He's never heard Sherlock be so emotional before, then he realizes he may never hear it again. He decides to pull himself out of shock and respond before Sherlock retreats back into himself. So he takes a deep breath and smiles his best smile for his best friend then speaks.

  "Sherlock?" The young Holmes brother is smiling proudly and affectionately at the doctor seated across from him. John continues "You told me once, that you weren't a hero....there were times I didn't even think you were human. But, let me tell you this. You are, the best and the wisest man that I have ever known. I was so alone and I owe you so much."

  John peeks up at Sherlock through damp eye lashes and notices him beaming over at him. When did he get so close? When did he start smelling so good? When did they begin holding hands and why does he feel like the air just disappeared? Screw it, he thought. It doesn't matter, none of it matters. He is happy, Sherlock's very happy and life, as they say, goes on. They are ridiculous men, having ridiculous adventures. Who, every once in a while, share a look, steal a kiss, have a shag and yes, share a bed. John laughs at them both as he comes to a beautiful realization.

_This, this is how we say it. This is how 'we' express sentiment. It's not clear and concise. It's not with three little words. It's not standing on an alter in front of hundreds of people reciting cookie cutter vows and promising to love and cherish._ _No, it's none of that._

_It's a cup of tea in the morning, a smile shared between friends or the adrenaline fueled chase of a suspect through Trafalgar Square at 3 in the morning, knowing that when things go sour the other has your back. It's knowing when to stop, ignoring that knowledge under the mutual understanding that you'll be forgiven when everything is over. It's running across London to send a text to a murderer, or shooting a cabby to save your best friends life. It's in risking your life, with twenty pounds of explosives strapped to your chest, so the other can get away. It's waiting and believing. It's in never giving up, no matter how much the odds are stacked against you. It's in recognizing that the reason it never worked out with anyone else is because what you need and everything you've ever asked for is standing right in front of you. It's in shared secrets about government officials and their Detective Inspector boyfriends. And lastly, it's in the words we don't say in a restaurant, across town, where it all began. It's in the sentiment you spoke that first day. "I consider myself married to my work." you said. Well, now I'm part of your work and look how you care, about John Watson._


End file.
